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Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time

1 Corinthians 1:26

Consider your own calling, brothers. Not many of you were wise by human standards...

Readings for Sunday: Zephanaiah, 1 Corinthians, Matthew

Reflection:

In our modern world, the question of who we follow matters a great deal. For those under thirty, that question often points to influencers on Instagram or TikTok—people with millions of followers who seem to have perfected life. For those less familiar with social media, an influencer is someone who is famous largely for being famous, shaping desires and lifestyles for profit. Think of Kim Kardashian with hundreds of millions of followers, or George Clooney selling Nespresso on television. The underlying message is the same: “If you want to be happy, be like me.” Look this way, buy these things, live this lifestyle—and happiness will follow.

But that message is not true. Influencers sell an image, carefully curated and often edited. Photos are filtered, flaws erased, and even Clooney has a makeup artist. These are commercials. In stark contrast, the Church holds up Jesus Christ—not photoshopped perfection, but a bloody cross. If we truly want happiness, we are invited not to follow influencers, but to follow Christ.

This leads us to a deeper question: what is happiness? The Declaration of Independence speaks of the “pursuit of happiness,” something to be chased or obtained. The word itself comes from the Old English “hap,” meaning chance or luck. Too often, happiness is tied to circumstances—winning the lottery, falling in love, or life simply going our way. And as quickly as it comes, it can disappear.

The Gospel offers us a richer word: blessedness. In the Beatitudes, Jesus uses the Greek word makarios, often translated as “blessed.” This is not luck or happenstance, but a deep, abiding state of peace, joy, and contentment rooted in God. To be blessed means that God is actively at work in us, and that we are choosing to live in relationship with Him. It is the kind of happiness that lasts.

God created us for Himself, and like a beautiful painting meant to be admired, we only flourish when we live according to our purpose. We long for meaning, love, and fulfillment—but finite things cannot satisfy infinite desires. Only God can. That is why Jesus gives us the Beatitudes, a counter-cultural recipe for true happiness. “Blessed are the poor in spirit,” He says—those detached from possessions, status, and even reputation, who cling instead to God.

Money, fame, and power cannot buy what we seek most. True happiness—true blessedness—is a gift from our Creator, given to us in and through Jesus Christ.

Reflection Questions

  • Who or what most influences my idea of happiness?
  • Where am I seeking happiness through circumstances rather than blessedness through relationship?
  • What am I most attached to, and what might God be inviting me to loosen my grip on?

Third Sunday in Ordinary Time

Matthew 4:17

Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.

Readings for Sunday: Isaiah, 1 Corinthians, Matthew

Reflection:

Ever wonder why we Catholics are so into candles? There are many reasons, but at the heart of it is this: we believe that because of Jesus, there is light in the darkness.

Scripture often speaks honestly about darkness. In the first reading from Isaiah, written in the eighth century before Christ, the people of Israel were living through a terrible time. The Assyrian Empire had invaded the northern kingdom around 722 BC. The people were oppressed, many were carried off into exile, and pagan foreigners were brought into the land. The region of Zebulun and Naphtali became a mixed people with a mixed religion, later known as Samaritans, and they were looked down upon by Jews in the south. Isaiah even calls this area the “District of the Gentiles” and speaks of the “rod of the taskmaster.” Yet in the midst of that darkness, the prophet foretold that one day a great light would shine.

That message matters for us today. We look around our world and see violence in the Middle East, war in Ukraine, violence here in Chicagoland, corruption in politics, and deep wounds in families and culture.

At the root, we have a sin problem. Still, Isaiah’s words remind us: there is light in the darkness, and that light is Jesus.In the Gospel, Matthew tells us that Jesus went to live in Galilee, in the land of Zebulun and Naphtali, fulfilling Isaiah’s prophecy. God himself came to us. Jesus, God incarnate, entered a sinful and violent world without sin, laid down his life on the cross, and rose from the dead like the rising sun. He offers us everlasting life and shows us how to live a truly human life in holiness and justice. That is why Jesus begins by preaching, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand,” and then calls disciples. To follow Jesus is a journey of transformation, like dedicating oneself fully to a sport. Baptism is the beginning, but discipleship requires practice, commitment, and perseverance. Brothers and sisters, we are all called to be disciples and ultimately saints. In baptism we receive the light of Christ, symbolized by a candle, and we are called to shine that light brightly in a dark world.

Reflection Questions

  • Where do I see darkness—in my own life, my family, or the world around me—and how do I allow the light of Christ to enter and transform those areas?
  • What does discipleship look like for me right now, and in what concrete ways am I practicing my faith rather than simply identifying as Catholic in name?
  • Since I received the light of Christ at my baptism, how am I being called to shine that light more strongly for others through my words, choices, and way of life?

Second Sunday in Ordinary Time

John 1:29

John the Baptist saw Jesus coming toward him and said, “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.

Readings for Sunday: Isaiah, 1 Corinthians, John

Reflection:

In this Sunday’s Gospel, we hear John the Baptist, looking at Jesus, say, “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.” It is these words that the priest says, when showing the Eucharist in both the host and chalice, right before communion. He immediately adds, “Blessed are those called to the supper of the Lamb.”

Last Sunday we celebrated the Baptism of the Lord, which closed the Christmas season, and then began Ordinary Time. This new season is a season of living as day-to-day disciples of Jesus. Our Lord is still with us in many ways, especially in the Blessed Sacrament. On Sundays, at daily Mass, and in the Eucharist adoration chapel, we have the chance to hear John the Baptist, in a sense proclaiming in our ear, “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.”

We then have the opportunity to go to out to the world and proclaim Jesus like John the Baptist. In fact, that is how we began to call the Eucharistic celebration, “the Mass.” It is from the dismissal, “Ite, missa est,” which in Latin means, “Go, it is the dismissal.” Effectively, we have encountered the Lord in the Liturgy of the Word and the Liturgy of the Eucharist, and now we are dismissed to proclaim him to the world. John the Baptist’s words and attitude should be ours, that we want to make Jesus known, and to “testif[y] that he is the Son of God.”

Reflection Questions

  • How strong is my devotion to Jesus, present in the Blessed Sacrament, the Eucharist? Do I truly behold him present to me under the appearance of bread and wine?
  • How strong is my drive and desire to share my faith? To tell other people about who Jesus is and how Jesus has changed my life?
  • In what ways am I to be prophetic, like John the Baptist, in today’s world?

Baptism of the Lord

Isaiah

Here is my servant whom I uphold, my chosen one with whom I am pleased.

Reflection:

John the Baptist baptized people as a sign of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. When Jesus came to be baptized by John, it raised an important question: if Jesus was without sin, why would He submit to a baptism meant for sinners? The answer lies in two key ideas—solidarity and justification.
First, solidarity. To stand in solidarity means to stand shoulder to shoulder with others. Jesus, though fully God, also became fully human. He entered completely into our human condition, sharing our joys, limits, struggles, and ordinary experiences—except for sin. He was conceived, born, raised, learned a trade, and lived most of His life in quiet obscurity in Nazareth. For roughly thirty years, He lived what many would consider an ordinary, even boring life. Yet that life was holy. By being baptized, Jesus stood with sinners, identifying Himself with humanity in its need for redemption.
This tells us something profound: God does not despise ordinary life. Jesus did not seek fame, power, or recognition. Though He created the universe, He chose the hidden life of a carpenter. In doing so, He showed that everyday faithfulness—work, family, patience, obedience—is deeply meaningful to God.

Second, justification. Jesus was baptized not because He needed cleansing, but because He came to make us right with God. As both fully God and fully human, He acts on behalf of both. Scripture teaches that we are justified not by our own goodness, but by God’s grace. Jesus enters the waters to sanctify them, preparing the way for our rebirth through baptism. He takes on our sins so that we may share in His everlasting life.

By His grace, we are called not only to receive salvation, but to live it—to reject godless ways and live justly and faithfully. Jesus lived the truly human life so that we, through Him, might become children of God.

Reflection Questions

  • How does Jesus’ choice to live an ordinary, hidden life challenge my own desire for recognition, success, or approval from others?
  • If justification means living in right relationship with God through grace, how am I responding to that gift in my daily choices?
  • What does it mean for me personally that Jesus stands in solidarity with humanity, even entering into our weakness and suffering?

Epiphany

Matthew 2:11

They prostrated themselves and did him homage.

Readings for Sunday: Isaiah, Ephesians, Matthew

Reflection:

The story of the three kings is one of the most beautiful stories in Scripture. This narrative reveals something deeply human: our longing to search for truth. The Gospel, in fact, never calls these three travelers kings, but magi. They were learned men from the East, likely from the Parthian Empire, practitioners of an ancient religion known as Zoroastrianism. They were scholars, observers of the heavens, men who believed that movements in the sky revealed meaning on earth. When these magi saw a star rise, they understood it as a sign: the birth of a king. They didn’t practice astrology as we know it today, but performed a disciplined reading of the cosmos. They had no map, no certainty, no guarantee—only a conviction that something profoundly important had happened. And so they set out, traveling a long, expensive, dangerous journey simply to find the truth. Why would they do this? Surely there were kings closer to home. But they were not searching for power or politics.

They were searching for meaning and for Truth itself. And isn’t that still true of us today? Whether in politics, philosophy, or personal struggle, we are all asking the same questions: What is real? What is good? What gives life meaning?  From Socrates to Plato to modern debates, humanity has always been on this quest. The magi eventually find what they are seeking. What they find is not an idea, but a person: Jesus Christ. They offer gold for a king, incense for God, and myrrh for one who would die. In Him, the Truth became flesh. Jesus is not merely a teacher of truth; He is Truth itself. As He says, “I am the way, the truth, and the life.” This is why the story of the magi is so beautiful. It is our story. The search for meaning, fulfilled in Christ. At Epiphany, God reveals Himself not only to Israel, but to the whole world. We, too, have found the Truth. His name is Jesus.

Reflection Questions

  • What “stars” am I currently following in my own life, and are they truly leading me toward deeper truth, or merely toward comfort, success, or approval?
  • Like the magi, am I willing to take risks, sacrifice comfort, or change direction in order to seek what is truly meaningful and life-giving? Why or why not?
  • If Jesus is truly the embodiment of Truth, how does that challenge the way I make decisions, understand my purpose, and live out my faith each day?

Feast of the Holy Family

Matthew

Out of Egypt I called my son.

Readings for Sunday: Sirach, Colossians, Matthew

Reflection:

The Holy Family is, in one sense, an unusual family. Mary, both wife and mother, is a perpetual virgin who conceives her Son not through human means but by the power of the Holy Spirit. That Son, Jesus, is both fully God and fully man. Technically, no husband was necessary for this divine plan—yet God ensured one anyway. Joseph is given to Mary as husband and to Jesus as a human, adoptive father. This extraordinary family then lives not in a place of prestige, but in Nazareth, a small and insignificant town, so unimpressive that Nathanael famously asks, “Can anything good come from Nazareth?” And yet, despite all this, the Holy Family becomes a model for every family.

In our own time, the very definition of family is often debated and redefined. Throughout history, families have taken different forms—nuclear, extended, adoptive—but in Joseph, Mary, and Jesus we see a clear message from God. To save us, the Son of God took on a true human nature and lived the full gamut of human life. Theoretically, he could have appeared on earth fully grown, but instead He was conceived in Mary’s womb, born as a child, and raised within a family.

Though He did not need a human father, God chose that Jesus would grow up with both a mother and a father, experiencing family life as we do.

In His humanity, Jesus shows us the way to live. He experiences obedience, love, and growth within a home. Marriage, as the Church teaches, is ordered toward the unity of husband and wife and the good of children. While acknowledging the brokenness of the world—divorce, single parenthood, and suffering—the norm remains: a loving, faithful home where children can grow securely.

The Holy Family was not free from hardship, but Joseph and Mary remained committed to each other and to Jesus. In their fidelity, sacrifice, and love, they reveal God’s plan for family life and remind us that even what seems ordinary—or insignificant—can become the place where God’s grace is most powerfully at work.

Reflection Questions

  • In what ways does the Holy Family challenge my understanding of what makes a family “successful” or “normal,” and how does it invite me to rethink God’s plan for family life?
  • How does Jesus’ choice to grow in wisdom and obedience within a human family influence the way I view the roles of parents, marriage, and sacrifice in everyday life?
  • Given the realities of brokenness in families today, how can the example of Joseph, Mary, and Jesus inspire greater commitment, patience, and love in my own family or community?

4th Sunday of Advent

Matthew 1:24

When Joseph awoke, he did as the angel of the Lord had commanded him and took his wife into his home.

One of the most striking things we do not learn about Saint Joseph from the Bible is what he said. In fact, if we scour the entire Scriptures, not a single word spoken by Joseph is recorded. At first, this seems very odd. Surely Joseph spoke during his lifetime. Yet the silence of Scripture is fitting, because it reveals exactly who Saint Joseph was: a man whose character is shown not by words, but by actions. He is Joseph the Just, Joseph the Courageous, and Joseph the Foster Father of Jesus and Patron Saint of Workers.

Joseph is called “the just.” His justice is seen clearly in the story of Jesus’ conception. Joseph and Mary were betrothed, a binding legal commitment far more serious than modern engagement. When Mary was found to be pregnant before they lived together, Joseph faced a grave situation. Though the law allowed for public accusation, Joseph chose compassion. As Scripture tells us, “since he was a righteous man, yet unwilling to expose her to shame,” he decided to divorce her quietly.

Even before understanding God’s plan fully, Joseph acted with mercy. When an angel later revealed that Mary’s child was conceived by the Holy Spirit, Joseph immediately obeyed and took her into his home. No words are recorded, only faithful action.

Joseph’s courage is also evident. He accepted Mary despite rumors and raised Jesus as his own son, giving him a place in the royal line of David. Later, warned in a dream, Joseph fled with Mary and Jesus to Egypt, leaving home and livelihood behind to protect his family. Again, without hesitation or argument, he did God’s will.
Finally, Joseph was a foster father and a worker. As a carpenter, he taught Jesus his trade, shaping Christ’s human life through years of quiet labor. For this reason, Joseph is rightly honored as the Patron Saint of Workers. His silent faith, courageous obedience, and steadfast love remind us that holiness is often lived quietly. Like Joseph, sometimes the most powerful witness is shown not by what we say, but by what we do.

Reflection

  • In what ways do my actions reveal my faith more clearly than my words, and where might God be inviting me to act rather than speak?
  • How do I respond when God’s will is unclear or difficult, especially when obedience may cost me comfort or reputation?
  • How can I live holiness more intentionally in my daily responsibilities at home, work, and family life?

Third Sunday of Advent

James 5:9

Make your hearts firm, because the coming of the Lord is at hand.

Readings for Sunday: Isaiah, James, Matthew

Reflection:

This time of year, the dusty rose vestments remind us that Gaudete Sunday is here—a Sunday of rejoicing as we move closer to Christmas. Today, we once again consider John the Baptist and his expectations about the Messiah. Like John, we also carry expectations of God. We expect Him to hear our prayers, to help us in trouble, to cure illness, and to fix what feels broken. But what do we do when God does not respond in the way we hope?

John the Baptist believed Jesus was the Messiah, yet when Jesus did not act with power and judgment immediately, John questioned. He expected a fiery Messiah who would come with force and authority. Instead, Jesus came with mercy—healing the sick, restoring sight, and raising the dead. Jesus responded to John’s doubts not with anger, but with evidence: the blind see, the lame walk, and the poor receive the Good News. Jesus fulfilled the words of the prophet Isaiah, showing He was truly the one sent by God.

Sometimes, like John, we question because God does not act according to our expectations. Suffering, loss, and unanswered prayers can shake us. But Jesus invites us to trust Him—not because He always gives us what we want, but because He gives what we need for salvation. Earthly healing is temporary, but the Gospel offers eternal life.

As we continue through Advent, we are called to adjust our expectations—not asking God to meet our plan, but trusting His. One day we will meet Jesus face-to-face. Everything He allows in our lives prepares us for that moment.

Reflection Questions

  • What expectations do I currently have of God, and how do I respond when He doesn’t meet them in the way I hoped or imagined?
  • In moments of uncertainty, like John the Baptist experienced, do I take time to look for signs of God’s presence and goodness already at work around me?
  • Am I more focused on asking God for earthly comfort and answers, or am I open to the deeper work He wants to do in my heart to prepare me for eternal life?

Second Sunday of Advent

Matthew 3:3

Prepare the way of the Lord, make straight his paths.

Readings for Sunday: Isaiah, Romans, Matthew

Reflection:

Imagine a man who approaches you dressed in a camel-hair tunic, cinched with a leather belt, crunching on a handful of locusts dipped in honey. Suddenly he points at you and cries, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand!” Most of us would probably think he was mentally ill and had forgotten to take his medication. Yet this is exactly the kind of shocking figure John the Baptist was.

We come to church, hear the familiar stories of Jesus’ birth, and think, “Isn’t that nice?” They can become heart-warming background noise, especially if we’ve heard them so many times that we hardly pay attention. But the reality is far from tame. John the Baptist bursts onto the scene in today’s Gospel as a jarring figure. By our standards, he would seem eccentric for living alone in the desert, wearing strange clothing, and shouting dire predictions. The prophets throughout salvation history were the same. These were strange people doing outrageous things, not evil but certainly not “normal.”

The Advent scriptures are full of such figures precisely to shake us out of complacency.

Imagine arriving at a party, only to see a huge tree about to collapse onto the house and kill everyone inside. You run in to warn them, but everyone is too drunk to care. Who is truly thinking clearly; you or the partygoers? That is the prophets’ situation. They appear shocking only because our perspective has been dulled by sin.

Many who abandon Christianity don’t do so because doctrine failed them, but because their lifestyles clashed with the faith. As Chesterton wrote, “The Christian ideal has not been tried and found wanting. It has been found difficult; and left untried.” John the Baptist tries to wake us from our stupor. To repent means to think differently—to see the danger clearly and then act accordingly. Even believers can fall into living like everyone else, rationalizing sin because “everyone does it.” John’s words still shock because they confront our comfort and expose our self-deception. And Advent calls us to awaken.

Reflection Questions

  • In what ways might I have grown complacent in my spiritual life, accepting behaviors or attitudes simply because “everyone else does it”?
  • Where do I sense John the Baptist’s call to “think differently” in my own life—what truths am I avoiding, and what changes might they demand of me?
  • How do I respond when God’s message feels uncomfortable or disruptive—do I rationalize my habits, or allow myself to be awakened and transformed?

First Sunday of Advent

Matthew 24:44

So too, you also must be prepared, for at an hour you do not expect, the Son of Man will come.

Readings for Sunday: Isaiah, Romans, Matthew

Reflection:

At first glance, the idea of “canceling Christmas” sounds outrageous, but perhaps it invites us to ask a deeper question: Why do we celebrate Christmas at all? For many people, the holiday has lost its meaning—becoming little more than parties, shopping, decorating, and baking. If Christmas is meant to honor Jesus, then celebrating it while having no desire to speak with Him or welcome Him into our lives is an empty gesture. Maybe what needs canceling is not Christmas itself, but the way we have come to observe it.

The Church teaches that the most important celebration of the year is actually Easter. The Triduum of Holy Thursday, Good Friday, and the Easter Vigil commemorates the passion, death, and resurrection of Jesus. Thes are the center of our salvation. But this raises a question: if Jesus is truly God made man, how did He enter our world? This brings us to Christmas, the second most important feast. It commemorates not only His birth in Bethlehem two thousand years ago, but also His promised return. As St. Paul says, “The night is advanced, the day is at hand.” By celebrating His first coming, we anticipate and hope for His second.

Advent, therefore, is a season of preparation not just for December 25, but for the moment Jesus returns in glory. Jesus warns us that many will be unprepared, living ordinary lives with no thought for eternity. St. Paul urges us to “throw off the works of darkness” and “put on the armor of light.” Advent calls us to repentance, virtue, and intentional readiness.
This season, we should choose one area in which to grow (patience, prayer, righteousness) offering it as a birthday gift to Christ. Then, should He knock on our door on Christmas morning, we will joyfully say, “I was hoping you would come. Maranatha; come, Lord Jesus.”

Reflection Questions

  • In what ways has Christmas become routine or superficial for me, and how might I refocus it on Christ’s coming—both His first and His promised return?
  • What “works of darkness” or habits do I need to cast aside this Advent so I can truly “put on the armor of light”?
  • What is one concrete virtue or spiritual practice I can offer to Jesus as a birthday gift by intentionally growing in it this season?
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